


like the sun in the sky

by kerrykins (orphan_account)



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Long-Distance Relationship, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Online Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-08-21 07:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: Like the sun in the sky I’m always herebrightening the world you breath and live inAnywhere you go you can feel my gentle love.





	1. like the sun in the sky

It had been six years since she’d walked away from Miranda Priestly that fateful afternoon in Paris. And yet, Andy Sachs couldn’t get her out of her thoughts.

 

She had certainly tried her best. A three week cycle of drinking, sleeping, and crying hadn’t accomplished much. Neither had moving to California.   
  
Those brilliant blue eyes and elegant scowl had seeped into every crevice of her mind, refusing to set her free. Her infatuation with the stunning curmudgeon knew no bounds, apparently.

 

Andy snuck a glance at the pile of mail sitting on her kitchen counter and let out a sigh.

 

Sitting at the top of the stack, there was a glossy issue of Runway, with some ridiculously thin model in some ridiculously expensive dress. She really ought to cancel her subscription to the magazine. But subconsciously, the woman knew she never would.

 

Andy had tried to rebound with several girlfriends, boyfriends, and significant others. But it seemed as though nothing could measure up to the way Miranda tossed her head back when she laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth.

 

Or the way she pressed her glasses to her lips when she was deep in concentration. A tuft of white hair would stick up endearingly behind her ear when Andy delivered the Book to her home, and Miranda always smelled wonderful. Like peppermint intermingled with sandalwood.

 

And she never changed her coffee order, one no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk. She would roll her eyes so often that it made Andy dizzy, and her voice was a gentle purr.

 

Under Miranda’s employ, she had panicked, nauseous, and suicidal. Never in her life had she been so overworked and upset. Andy missed it terribly.

 

Simply put, Andrea Sachs with madly in love with Miranda Priestly, Ice Queen, Dragon Lady, The Devil In Prada.

 

Wherever that terrifying and gorgeous woman was now, Andy silently hoped she was well. And that she at least knew who Andy was, considering Miranda definitely didn’t reciprocate her feelings.

  


Miranda was standing on the rooftop of the Four Seasons in New York, wearing an exquisite pale champagne cocktail dress. She leaned nonchalantly on the railing, overlooking the cityscape drowned in lights. To anyone else, the view would have been breathtaking. But Miranda wasn’t really paying attention to that frivolous display. No, her thoughts had drifted to something far more precious. Something she had foolishly let slip through her fingertips.

 

Her gaze was now transfixed on the sky above her, and she stared intently at the stars. They were beautiful, just like a young woman she once knew.

 

Andrea Sachs was a curious girl. She was almost always flustered around Miranda, spare for a few occasions where she would surprise the editor. At times like that, she’d flash a goofy grin at Miranda, and the older woman would be rendered speechless. And that smile was as warm, gentle, and sincere. It took her breath away.

 

Recollections of a doe-eyed woman with brown hair that swept over her shoulder, cascading in small waves were as fresh in her mind as though she had just seen her yesterday. It was impossible to forget, impossible to move on. Miranda narrowed her ice blue eyes at the sky. Why, out of all people, did it have to be Andrea Sachs? The white-haired woman sniffed. She knew the answer to that.

 

It was because she had a certain raw quality to her. Andrea wore her heart on her sleeve, emotions, opinions, and fears written all over her expressive face.

 

She didn’t lie, was loyal to a fault, and cared.

 

She cared a great deal.

 

Miranda hadn’t met anyone so driven, so passionate, so obstinate, other than herself.

 

Her mind was sharp, and was exceptional at reading people. After all, she had managed to catch a glimpse of the broken woman that lay beneath the cold exterior that was Miranda Priestly.

 

That girl poured herself and more into everything she cherished, and Miranda had begrudgingly acknowledged that in Paris. She thought that Andrea would have been flattered. But instead, she ran away, and Miranda was deserted yet again.

 

The editor’s grip on the railing tightened, knuckles shining white.

 

That was undoubtedly her biggest regret. Her string of divorces were nothing compared to the grief that plagued her once her precious assistant had left.

 

She had spent countless hours staring blankly at a wall, her work, and her intent focus dimmed to nothing. Miranda repeated the same questions to herself, feeling trapped in an infinite loop. Had she offended Andrea with the assumption that the girl was anything like herself? Or was it the fact that she had betrayed Nigel? Perhaps she had realised that she didn’t want to live the kind of life Miranda did?

 

“Everyone wants this,” Miranda had insisted. But Andrea wasn’t everyone. She should have known better.

 

Whatever the case was, it was far too late. Too late to apologise, to tell Andrea that she loved her, to take the girl’s face in her hands and kiss her.

 

“I hope you’re happy,” Miranda murmured to the air, eyes still unwavering from the small pinpricks of light above. “You deserve the best, my darling Andrea.”

 

The white-haired woman pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance when she realised that she had expected Andrea to hear her. Letting out a sigh, Miranda let go of the railing, and turned around to head back to the gala.

  


With a jerk, Andy looked out her window at the setting sun, scarlet and salmon streaking across the horizon. She could have sworn she heard Miranda whisper something soft and sweet, and shook her head, smiling wistfully.  
  
  
  
  



	2. i just got your message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda reaches out.

Miranda has been a trainwreck these past few weeks. Well, that was putting it mildly. Miranda Priestly had a very loose definition of “emotionally stable,” but this was far from it. Distractions were a rarity for the editor, but at the moment her life was teeming with them.

 

Fumbling with her coffee cup became a daily occurence, and even left the Book at home one morning, cursing under her breath as she phoned Roy.

 

And the other day, she had run through the rainy streets of New York in her Blahniks. Certainly had been an enthralling experience.

 

Everyone was aware of it, she knew. Whenever she stormed into work, people would still scramble to their desks, but it wasn’t nearly as frenzied as it once was.

 

Today would be the end of it. All the damage she had done to her formidable persona was irrelevant, all because of a small business card with a phone number on it.

 

Miranda burst into the office full of bravado, and smirked as her employees gaped at her. “Well, close your mouths and get back to work. Whatever happened to the Testino photoshoot? I needed those photos on my desk yesterday, and have been unusually lenient.”

 

There was furious rush of rustling papers, yelling, and rolling racks of clothing across the building. Miranda nodded curtly. Better.

 

“I do hope the Grace Coddington x Louis Vuitton shoot hasn’t slipped your minds either,” she drawled, which was met by numerous yelps of panic. Her heels clicked ferociously as she made her way to her office, flinging her coat and bag at her assistants.

 

Once Miranda was seated at her desk, she withdrew a simple business card from her pocket, containing her glee as her icy gaze swept over the small print.

 

Andy Sachs, investigative journalist.

 

Underneath, multiple numbers were provided. She narrowed her eyes at the mobile phone number. That would be the most suitable.

 

Biting her lip, she dialed the number. Her fingers hovered over the call button for a moment before forcibly pressing it.

 

“Hi!” Miranda inhaled sharply at hearing Andrea’s cheerful voice greet her. “You’ve reached my voicemail, and that means I’m probably out right now. I’d love for you to leave a message though, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Bye!”

 

Suddenly, Miranda was having second thoughts about all this. Goodness gracious, whatever compelled her to do this? She hadn’t spoken to Andrea in six years. Would the girl even want to hear from her? Then the line beeped, and Miranda decided it was now or never.

 

“Andrea. We have some matters to discuss.” She paused for a moment, pondering. “I believe I’ve given you quite the lengthy reprieve from Paris. Running away was an unusual choice on your part. Message me at the number I’m calling from. That’s all.” She hung up, and reclined in her chair. Seemed like her life was about to get a lot more interesting.

  


Andy was in the bath as she scrolled through her email inbox, texts, and voicemail. Today had been a busy day, and it slipped her mind to bring a charger to the office. The brunette winced when she saw that she had six missed calls. One from Lily, two from Doug, and the rest were all assorted work contacts. As she scrolled down the list, she froze.

 

There was a number that she vaguely recognised, but couldn’t remember where she saw it, or who it belonged to. Oh, they had left a voicemail. Curiosity gnawing at her, she opened it.

 

“Andrea.” A familiar voice greeted her, clipped in diction. The caller offered no greeting other than Andy’s name. “We have some important matters to discuss.”

 

In her shock, Andy’s phone nearly fell into the tub, and she let out a cry of horror as she fumbled to catch it before its descent into the water.

 

“I believe I’ve given you quite the lengthy reprieve from Paris. Running away was an unusual choice on your part. Message me at the number I’m calling from. That’s all.” Andy frowned at her phone once the message had ended. In some ways, this was typical Miranda behaviour. No small talk, concise, and to the point.

 

But it was odd that the editor would call Andy at all. And why did she have to wait six years? Andy thought she understood Miranda well, but this didn’t make any sense. She’d have all the time in the world to think about that later, though.

 

Sighing, Andy climbed to her feet, carefully stepping out of the tub. Her evenings were meant to be a time of leisure and relaxation. But considering Miranda was involved, there would be none of that today. Maybe even the next of her life. Actually, that was a stretch, it was too soon to tell.

 

Andy hastily draped a robe around herself, and couldn’t help but open her phone and play the message again. Like she needed to be sure that actually happened, and wasn’t just some kind of hallucination.

 

She almost wished it hadn’t been real, because she definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep well tonight, which would be an issue.

 

Tomorrow morning she had to get to work early and give her article on sanctuary cities to her boss. Andy thought she had done pretty good work, but still dreaded a face-to-face meeting with the editor-in-chief. Cate was a cunning, blonde woman that never got tired, and being around her was really draining. So she needed all the rest she could get.

 

Andy flopped onto her bed and played her voicemail yet again. Miranda sounded almost apprehensive, cautious. Could it be that the editor felt just as awkward about this whole situation as she did? Maybe. She made quick work of adding Miranda’s number to her contacts, and began typing out a message.

 

_hey, miranda. i just got your message. this is my number, text me when you get the chance to. but you’re probably pretty busy_

 

She read over it at least three times because reluctantly pressing send. Sighing, she tossed the phone onto her bedside table. If Andy looked at her phone anymore, she wouldn’t be able to sleep and would spend the entire night stressing out.

 

Andy groaned into her pillow. She probably was going to do that anyways, phone or no phone.

 

Unfortunately, she woke up at 3AM to the loud ping of her phone. Andy practically leapt out of bed and gripped her phone so tightly she was worried she had shattered it. Her heart hammered in her chest when she saw that Miranda had sent a message. With trembling hands, she opened her messenger app.

 

_You were correct when you assumed that I was preoccupied with work. Considering it is 3AM in California, I’m sure you’re asleep. Regardless, I will be exceedingly busy for the next few days, and most likely won’t have much time to chat.  Once the week is over, you’ll have to fill me in on what you’ve been doing these past six years, and how you’ve managed to evade me for so long. I’m looking forward to it._

 

_-Miranda_

 

Andy’s mouth parted slightly. Oh wow. So much for her thinking this was going to be pleasant. She furiously typed back.

 

_gee, so am i. you don’t have to force me to do anything miranda. in case you’ve forgotten, i don’t work for you anymore. and if i don’t want to tell you something, you just have to deal with it._

 

She sent it quickly before she could change her mind. Andy gulped nervously when she noticed Miranda immediately began typing back.

 

_I’m well aware, Andrea. I’m also not forcing you to divulge anything. It’s more so a polite request. If you’re uncomfortable with sharing, then I won’t press you for the details._

 

_-Miranda_

 

Her irritation with Miranda faded almost instantaneously. So she wasn’t bossing her around. Andy grinned. Alright then.

 

_you know you don’t have to type your name at the end of every message, right?_

 

Miranda stopped typing for a moment, then resumed.

 

_Yes._

 

_-Miranda_

 

She was still typing, so Andy waited for her to finish.

 

_As productive as this conversation was, I must go now. I’ll try to speak to you tomorrow, but I make no promises._

 

_-Miranda_

 

Andy was mildly disappointed that their conversation had ended so quickly.

 

_goodnight, miranda._

 

Miranda’s response was short.

 

_Yes._

 

The brunette smiled at this, and set her phone down. She buried her face into her covers, and this time had a far easier time falling asleep.


	3. that same sweet sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every morning I wake up to the same sweet sound  
> Picking up my cell phone that’s been ringing

A smile played on Miranda’s lips as she reread their messages a couple hours later. Considering it was six where Andrea lived, the girl was probably awake by now. 

 

But she must have been preoccupied with other matters, as she didn’t answer her last text. A knock on her door made her frown again. She specifically told that ditzy assistant Jessica that she was not to be disturbed until her twelve o’clock meeting. Apparently she was even more incompetent than she had initially thought.

 

“What?” Miranda snapped from her desk, not even bothering to look up. The knocking stopped. “It’s just me, Nigel,” a man quipped amusedly. “Jesus, Miranda, don’t bite my head off yet. I need to show you what we’ve got for the December issue so far.”

 

“Fine. Come in then.” Nigel strode in, cradling a coffee and a stack of thick binders, looking slightly ruffled. “Okay, so for the cover, we need to-”

 

Miranda’s phone chimed, and they both regarded it silently. The editor twitched a bit. It was likely Andrea.

 

After a moment’s hesitation, she rolled her eyes and gestured for Nigel to continue. “Right. So Paul suggested that we do the cover in all white, which I thought was fairly unoriginal.” Miranda forced herself to nod, but kept her eyes trained on her phone. She normally enjoyed going over brainstorming sessions in the art department, but talking to Andrea sounded so much more appealing. No, urgent.

 

“Jocelyn wanted colours like silver, ecru, periwinkle,” Nigel went on.

 

“No,” Miranda sighed exasperatedly, pressing her glasses to her lips. “We’ve done that already. Vogue had done that twice. Does Jocelyn happen to have any ideas that are even vaguely interesting? Or will she continue to recycle outdated, overdone concepts that make me want to hurl myself through a window?”

 

The bald man smirked at her knowingly. “Looks like someone’s in a foul mood today.”

 

“Perhaps,” Miranda drawled, reaching for one of the binders he was carrying. Nigel was correct. She wanted him out of her office as soon as possible. “Let’s get back to your notes now, shall we?” 

 

The older woman was now violently flipping through the pieces that were planned for this issue, her annoyance growing exponentially. Would it kill the editorial and art departments to have just a smidge of creativity?

 

“Alright then. Mark wanted white and red?”

 

“No, to all of it,” the editor groaned, pressing a hand to her temples. For the love of God, if she had to hear yet another poor idea, she’d likely blow a fuse. Nigel’s eyebrows shot up at this. “Hm?”

 

“Why don’t you email me your notes so I can review them? That way, you won’t waste your breath and my time. And do tell Jessica that I need her to fetch those Armani skirts I ordered. My patience with her is thinning.” The man nodded, but still looked puzzled as he walked out.

 

Miranda opened her phone, and saw that Andrea had indeed, sent her a text. And a lengthy one at that.

 

_ sorry for the late response, i had to turn in my article. also to answer your question, my personal life is a little messy, but that’s because i spend too much time working. when i started at runway, my friends and i drifted apart. which is honestly my own fault. i know i should have done things differently, but even if i had a second chance, i wouldn’t know what to do. _

 

A line formed between Miranda’s eyebrows. Hm, interesting.

 

_ I disagree. It’s not necessarily your fault that you have ambitions you wish to pursue. As your friends, they should respect your decisions and recognise that you wish to excel in the workplace. _

 

Andy’s response came quickly.

 

_ yeah i guess, but i think i could have at least tried harder to hold onto them. especially my boyfriend, nate. i think that’s kind of why i walked away from my job. _

 

Walked away from her job. Not the editor personally. That was reassuring.

 

_ Perhaps I shouldn’t prod you, but was it partially because you were horrified by the idea of sharing any similarities with me? _

 

It was a moment before Andy began typing again.

 

_ to be honest, i think it was a lot of things. that part kind of confused me, and scared me a little. the small glimpses i’ve seen of your life outside work haven’t been great, and i think i just didn’t want that. but at the same time i really do want to succeed. _

 

The editor tilted her head at this, pondering. She did have a point, her relationships with her daughters and ex-husbands had been strained. And during the time that Andrea was her assistant, her life had been oddly hectic, more so than usual.

 

_ That’s fair, I suppose. Finding something that’s considered a “healthy balance” between work and personal matters is easier said than done. I’ve been trying to for the past thirty years, and I’m nowhere close. _

 

After rereading her message, Miranda deleted that last line before sending. This conversation had gotten extremely personal too quickly for her liking.

 

_ yuppp. if you’ve figured it out yet, feel free to hmu with suggestions hahaha. _

 

The white-haired woman raised an eyebrow quizzically before typing again.

 

_ Perhaps, but that depends on what “HMU” means. _

 

She could practically hear Andrea chuckling at her, and rolled her eyes as she waited for the girl to message back.

 

_ asbdhgas wait you don’t know? it means hit me up, like let me know. _

 

Oh. Miranda pursed her lips. All of these new acronyms were unnecessary, since typing out sentences only took a couple moments more. And how did people manage to keep track of all of them?

 

_ I see. Well, as mildly interesting and educational this conversation has been, I must leave now. It appears that no one is capable of producing acceptable work if I am not roaming about the office. _

 

_ i send my condolences to your poor employees. be sure to say hi to nigel for me when you’re berating him for a misplaced shoe or something. _

 

Miranda’s mouth quirked upwards as she tucked her phone into her pocket. This was shaping up to be an interesting day.

  
  


Andy slammed her computer shut and groaned. Goddamnit, why did she get assigned an article on corn subsidies, of all things? It was so painfully dull, and required an exorbitant amount of research. At least she’d gotten a big chunk of it done today.

 

Once she slipped on her Northwestern sweatshirt and finally settled into her bed with a bottle of beer, Andy checked her phone. A couple emails from colleagues, a missed call from her mother, but no new texts from-- her. Busy, probably. Oh well, she’d send a message anyways.

 

_ hey, miranda. you’re probably busy, but i was wondering what new york fashion week is like? i may or may not have selected to write an article on it, and might be attending. _

 

Surprisingly, Miranda responded almost immediately, and Andy grimaced a bit when she read it.

 

_ Why on earth are you asking me if you’re going? Find out for yourself. _

 

Andy sighed. Was she in one of her moods? It was hard to tell even when she was face-to-face with the woman, but through a screen it was impossible. Her tone was usually a good indicator.

 

_ because i want to know what i’m getting into, and trust your opinion the most. _

 

This time, she took a while to respond, as if she had to stop and think.

 

_ Mm. New York Fashion week is wonderful, but the attendees rarely recognise how much work and time goes into the event. Or take any notice of everyone scrambling backstage. Regardless, the pieces that are sent down the runway are exquisite, and the sense of camaraderie among the designers, photographers, and other editors is really something special. They’re all vastly different people, yet they’re all working toward a common goal. Hosting a successful show, and sharing ideas. _

 

Andy smiled at what Miranda had said. The woman had often been labelled as a heartless and demanding workaholic. But in actuality, she was someone who loved their job, and poured themselves into it. And also expected the same effort from everyone who worked for her.

 

_ that really sounds amazing, miranda. and of course you’ll be there, so it’s all the more reason to go. _

 

Once she sent that, she panicked. What if Miranda thought she was making a move or something? Oh god, not when they’ve just started talking. She clumsily typed something out.

 

_ i mean i also have to get my article done, so there’s that. _

 

Miranda’s message was short.

 

_ Obviously. _

 

Andy was desperate to change the subject now. Why was talking to this woman so stressful, even through a screen?

 

_ yep yep yep. anyways, how was your day? _

 

Oh crap, Miranda hated small talk. She braced herself for a scathing remark.

 

_ Fine, I suppose. The December issue is off to a horrid start, and my assistant is utterly incapable of following directions. And you? _

 

Andy looked over it to make sure she hadn’t misread it. Huh, so apparently she was fine with it now. Good to know. In her surprise, she didn’t realise that Miranda has asked how she was doing.

 

_ pretty good, thanks for asking. _

 

Andy really was at a loss for words. She was exhausted and could feel a migraine coming on.

 

_ i hate to cut our talk short, but i need to take a tylenol or something, i have a headache. hopefully i’ll brb, but if i don’t respond, assume i’ve smacked my head on the bathroom floor. _

 

Miranda’s response was short but Andy could almost hear the purr of amusement in it.

 

_ I’ll be sure to attend your funeral. _

 


	4. every single day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How are you doing today?  
> Same questions every single day  
> Please know that I’m not good at asking you

Miranda was sitting in her study with a glass of wine and her phone, in place of the Book. Usually she would be annotating parts of it and adding notes, but tonight it was instead resting on the table beside her, unopened.

 

She took a tentative sip before typing.

 

_ You musn’t let corn subsidies get the best of you, Andrea. The sooner it’s completed, the sooner it’ll be off your hands. _

 

_ gah, i know. i just really don’t want to write this. of course i’m gonna work my ass off on it, but it’s going to be really unpleasant. but i’ve whined enough, how are you and your daughters doing? _

 

Miranda hesitated. Small talk had become normal between the two, and the editor was more than fine with hearing about Andrea’s life and the anecdotes it entailed.   
  
But despite how easy conversation flowed between them now, she was still apprehensive about letting the unsavory parts of her personal life slip out. The other woman was a twenty-something journalist that didn’t need to get wrapped up in it.

 

_ We’re fine. They occasionally mention how easy it was to dupe you into going upstairs. _

 

_ haha. very funny. it was a moment of weakness. and emily didn’t specify which table with the vase of flowers, or which closet. _

 

Miranda remembered that night vividly. Stephen had confronted her, yelling that she didn’t make enough time for him.

  
  


“I waited for two hours,” Stephen snarled, his face red with rage and inches away from Miranda’s.

 

“I told you, no one could get a signal out,” Miranda had pleaded. God, she had pleaded, and meekly at that. It was pitiful and humiliating.

 

“I knew what everyone in that restaurant was thinking,” her husband went on angrily, ignoring her comment. 

 

Miranda dumbly wished he could lower his voice so the girls wouldn’t be able to hear and sighed. 

 

“There he is, waiting for her again. And I-” His lips parted in shock, and Miranda whirled around to see what had been her saving grace.

 

A brunette girl stood on the stairs, clutching the Book to her chest, eyes wide. As Miranda stared at her in mortification, she heard Stephen give a defeated sigh and walk away. She prayed the girl hadn’t heard much, though her widened eyes spoke otherwise.

 

The assistant was frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, and let out a frightened squeak as she lay the Book at Miranda’s feet. 

 

The white-haired woman was firmly rooted to her place, the colour drained from her face. It seemed like she’d have to wait until tomorrow to tear the girl to shreds.

 

As Andrea scampered down the stairs, Miranda’s baleful eyes followed her until the finicky brunette was out of sight.

 

Miranda lifted the Book from the floor, and settled into a nearby chair. She opened it to a random page only to shut it again five minutes later in resignation, Miranda certainly couldn’t get any work done right now.

 

It just meant she’d have to wake up even earlier than usual. Which was more than fine.

 

The next morning had been chaotic and exhausting, and had taken a toll on how she treated Andrea at work.

  
  
  


Miranda’s phone chimed.

 

_ hey, miranda, you still there? if not, that’s ok lol. _

 

The older woman rolled her eyes at herself. Zoning out was unbecoming of her.

 

_ Yes, Andrea, I’m still here.  _

 

_ oh good, i thought maybe you fell asleep for a sec. _

 

Miranda typed out a response, and after a moment’s hesitation, sent it.

 

_ Sorry to disappoint. I’m very much awake and plan on chatting with you for a while. _

 

She frowned when she saw that Andrea, who had been typing before she sent her message, paused. The girl resumed her typing, but after a solid minute, Miranda was a little apprehensive. It seemed as though the girl was typing something quite lengthy. Had she crossed some invisible line?

 

_ haha. that’s more than fine with me. also. i think i might wanna ask you something, but i don’t know if you’d be ok with answering, or with me asking.  _

 

Miranda arched an eyebrow at that. If Andrea, who boldly ran into situations without thinking beforehand, was being so cautious, then it must be something serious.

 

_ Considering that I’ve answered most of your questions before, I don’t see the harm in asking.  _

 

She inhaled sharply after she sent it. It was risky, suggestive, and a little careless.

 

_ this is a touchy subject for you probably. but i was wondering, have you ever been in love before? _

 

Miranda’s eyes scanned it over at least five times to make sure she had read it correctly. Was Andrea really coming to her for love advice? Didn’t she have friends, or something like that? Whatever the case, Miranda felt that this was outside her area of expertise.

 

_ Perhaps, but love is really an abstract concept. Are you seeking my advice? If so, I’ll offer it, but keep in mind that it’s of dubious quality. _

 

Andy’s response came slow, again.

 

_ i think i’m looking for advice. how do you know if you love someone? i think i might be falling for someone. _

 

Oh my, sweet naive Andrea has a crush, Miranda smirked. Whoever the object of the brunette’s affection was quite fortunate.

 

_ How fascinating, kindly elaborate. If you’re comfortable, that is. _

 

_ sure. i think they’re really swell to talk to. i also hang onto every word they say, and have continuously done really stupid and crazy things for them. they’re really good-looking, and i’ve known them for a long time. _

 

Andrea was using gender-neutral pronouns. If it had been a man she was enamoured with, she would have unabashedly used “he.” So this person was most likely a “she” or “they.”

 

_ Ah, I see. Is this mysterious love of yours female? _

 

The pauses between each message seemed to get longer and longer.

 

_ maybe haha. or maybe they’re a guy. or neither. you are correct, she is a female. how much did you analyse my message to figure that out? _

 

Miranda’s lips quirked upwards at this.

 

_ It was quite easy, honestly. Tell me more about her. _

 

At this point, the older woman opened the Book and began to annotate it. It would be a while until Andrea finally sent whatever it was she was trying to say. Her phone eventually chimed after what seemed like an eternity, and she opened the messenger app.

 

_ she’s very nice. well, she doesn’t seem like at first, but appearances can be deceiving. i’ve known her for about seven years, and she is a close friend of mine. i know a lot about her because though she sometimes puts up this facade of invincibility and detachment, i can see right through her. i mean not her clothes, but her personality.  _

 

Miranda couldn’t help but chuckle at that part. Even after all these years, Andrea still had a tendency to ramble. Of course she would.

 

_ she’s kind but ambitious, passionate about what she does, and wants those around her to share her same views on working hard. i can tell she cares a lot about her family and friends, even though she doesn’t talk about them often. she’s very mysterious and even though i’ve known her for a long time, there’s a lot i don’t know about her. _

 

The older woman’s heart pounded in her chest as she continued to read. This sounded awfully familiar. No, it couldn’t be. How could it have been going on for seven years? Wouldn’t she had noticed? Wait. She vaguely remembered times when she had caught Andrea staring at her, who blushed and looked down when Miranda noticed it. 

 

And all the errands she ran for Miranda without complaint, going to such lengths to impress her, going above and beyond her job. So perfectly in tune with the woman’s needs, wants, and demands. It would make sense.

 

_ and man, i really used to hate her. i was scared of her. but now, i’m not sure. i think i might be in love with her, maybe i’ve had these feelings for her for all these years. i don’t want to tell her, but i think she might have figured it out already. _

 

Miranda ran a hand through her hair as she furiously typed back, her hands trembling.

 

_ Andrea, is this a confession? _


	5. unexpectedly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy panics after Miranda asks her a question.

_ Andrea, is this a confession? _

 

Andy let out a small squeak of terror at that, throwing her phone at her bed. To her relief, it bounced off the headboard and settled on her pillow safely. Oh god, how was she supposed to respond to that? Yes? No? Not respond at all? 

 

_ That last one isn’t an option _ , she told herself. No, that wouldn’t be fair at all to Miranda. It was just that she had managed to make so much progress with her, and Andy thought they had something akin to a friendship. 

 

These past few weeks, their conversations had been the only thing keeping her grounded, preventing her from losing her mind. A welcome reprieve from all the problems with her family, and the exhaustion her job brought her. Talking to Miranda had just become easy, and the editor had recently began to open up a bit, joining her in lamenting over work. 

 

Their conversations were light-hearted, interesting, and never failed to make Andy smile. The more serious ones they had the brunette took to heart, Miranda imparting her words of wisdom when it came to work, and everything, honestly. She always had something clever and insightful to say on anything Andy brought up.

 

So what could she say? If she said yes, Miranda might stop talking to her. If she said no, then Miranda might feel insulted and drive her walls back up, making it impossible for Andy to reenter. Both of those options were really shitty.

 

Fuck it, it was a lose-lose situation, might as well say what she wanted. Andy retrieved her phone, and opened the messenger app, grimacing when she realised that she had made Miranda wait ten minutes. She knew that the woman did not like to be kept waiting, especially when it came to things like this. Important stuff. Was this important to Miranda, though? Probably not. Andy prayed to whatever god was out there that this would go well, and began typing. She was going to pour every bit of herself into this message, because it might be her last.

 

_ it is... i think i’m in love with you miranda. and i have been for a very long time, even when i worked at runway. i’ve tried so hard to move on, to start dating again, but all i can think of is you. i’m sorry, i know you probably don’t want to hear this, or feel the same way. but i just want to let you know. if you want to cut me out of your life again, that’s understandable. i’m sorry we couldn’t just be friends, and that i’ve made things awkward. _

 

She sent it, and sighed. There it was. In all its cringeworthy glory.

 

Miranda immediately began typing back, and Andy braced herself for hell, taking a sip of her tea.

 

_ Oh. I see. Well, I’m glad I’m not alone in feeling this way. _

  
Andy coughed out her drink. What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter!! i've been neglecting this story because of the three (maybe four?? possibly five???) others i'm working on, plus school is high key whooping my ass.


	6. so this is love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! i've kinda given up on this story, focusing more on my rear window au, my soulmate fic, and my lawyers one!! i'll revisit this eventually though,,,,,

Little did Andy know that on the other side of the country, Miranda was panicking as well, though she hid it better.

 

The editor was still at her office, this time waiting for the Book to arrive. One of her assistants had been promoted recently, and the other was sick. So it was just her in an empty, dimly lit office.

 

 _Oh. I see. Well, I’m glad I’m not alone in feeling this way._ __  
  
Miranda was not usually the kind of woman to wring her hands in despair, but that’s exactly what she did in that moment.

 

For the love of God, could she be any more stupid? It hadn’t been intentional it had just-- slipped out. What would Andrea think? More importantly, who was she anymore? Typing out a message and sending it without any hesitation was oddly uncharacteristic of her.

 

Miranda needed to calm down.

 

What was it about this girl that made her lose control? She racked her brain for a reason, any explanation. It wasn’t love, it couldn’t be. Something that had come and would surely go, just as all her feelings for her husbands had dissipated within a couple years. That wasn’t love, and neither was this.

 

No, she told herself firmly. Miranda had been feeling this way for six years. If it was something fleeting, insignificant, it’d be gone already.

 

So this was love? Fascinating. The strange thing was, Miranda wasn’t upset about it, at least after her initial shock. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was a warm, unfamiliar feeling that blossomed in her chest and at the bottom of her stomach.

 

_ so we love each other. _

 

Miranda could have read that text a thousand times and still get a thrill of joy from it.

 

_ I suppose. _

 

She furiously deleted that. That wasn’t even a fraction of how she thought about this.

 

_ Indeed. _

  
That wasn’t good either. Unlike Andrea, she preferred shorter messages, instead of blocks of text professing her undying love. But what happened now?


End file.
